


The Florian Principle

by BethAdastra



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: A Smidge of Banter as a treat, Armor Kink, Bottom Galo Thymos, Enemies to Lovers Back to Enemies, Hate Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sex on a Frozen Lake, Top Lio Fotia, guest starring some ruined boxers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/pseuds/BethAdastra
Summary: Lio and Galo meet on the frozen lake. They make a one-time deal to keep the peace between the Burnish and Promepolis, and it's anything but peaceful. One-shot.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102





	The Florian Principle

It was the hottest spring on record for Promepolis.

Even if you didn’t count the plethora of Burnish attacks and accidents, the days were scorching hot, and people didn’t bother keeping their displeasure a secret. The news always turned the weather report into five minutes of complaining, and businesses used air conditioning as their main point of attraction. Summer was predicted to be even less forgiving.

The only relief that came to the poor souls of the city was when the sun set, and night descended. It was such a sweet relief, in fact, that people went out of their way to stay up late and enjoy eating, drinking, and socializing without fear of sweating through their clothes. Businesses changed their hours, construction slowed, and Promepolis came alive at sunset.

That night, one firefighter wasn’t feeling particularly lively.

By both normal human and Galo Thymos standards, he was downright pitiful.

After running through hours of simulations with the Matoi, he had been kicked out of the station, ordered by a cranky and overworked Lucia to “go enjoy himself,” despite his protests and desire to separate himself from the title “rookie” as fast as possible. That burning firefighter soul of his was already outpacing his new mentors, and it put him in a bit of a funk.

He skulked through the twilight hours.

He had trained practically his whole life for this, and now he was expected to go and entertain himself with something else? Pfft.

Even after convincing himself to go to a bar, nurse a single beer and provide lackluster conversation with the other bargoers of the night, he felt too wound up to indulge in alcohol or strangers’ company. He needed to get out. Get away.

As his bike roared up one of the less-well-kept backroads, he wondered if the lake was still frozen with all of the recent heat waves. He hadn’t visited the lake in a couple weeks, back when jackets were actually useful, but he deeply hoped that the ice hadn’t broken up yet. He could do with some literal chill time, away from the scent of melted tar and overworked air conditioners.

Warm air whipped against his jacket-clad arms, and only ever-so-slightly cooled as the bike wound through curves of the road that sharpened the higher he went. Keeping his mind on the road helped temper his thoughts, but it always melted back down into the lowly pool of melancholy by the time he reached another curve.

His first view of the lake came in flecks and slivers of light, peeking through the trees as he wound down to the shore. He had to slow down more than usual; the dark made drifts of sand and gravel almost invisible, and the last thing he needed was to be put on leave for taking a nasty fall off of his bike.

The air was cold enough that he could see his breath. He struggled to flick the vents of his helmet open while bringing the bike down closer to the shore. Chilly air was promising. Maybe he could try skating around again… wait and see if any deer came close to the shore…

When he cleared the last set of large trees, he flipped the bike off and quickly dismounted. And he grinned at the sight before him.

Seeing the lake was still frozen solid sent a certain type of warmth through him. This was _his_ spot, and seeing it unchanged made him feel safe. Stable.

Nobody expected anything of him here. He didn’t have to think of funny or clever things to say. He only had the company of the wildlife, the trees and the ice, that thing out on the lake, and…

He rubbed his eyes.

Something was on the lake.

He must be hallucinating.

Some sort of man in armor… no, a mech… no… _something_ stood out on the middle of the lake. It’s oil-slick black body would have made it all but invisible, were it not for the flames that danced around it. It floated a few feet above the solid ice, and the three-horned head was turned up to the stars.

It was Burnish.

Galo didn’t consider himself superstitious, and he definitely wasn’t a praying man, but this was surely the closest he had ever been to seeing a god. His throat felt tight, and every hair on his body prickled. Looking at the spectacle almost felt blasphemous.

He had never been so close to a Burnish with such refined control of their powers, either. It was one thing to spark a fire, another to construct a simple armor out of it, and it was yet another to mold it into a distinct form with its own personality. This Burnish was probably powerful. Really, really powerful.

He stepped out onto the ice, unable to turn away or ignore it.

The crunch of dried snow under his shoe echoed through the wide expanse of the lake, and the dreaminess of the scene shattered like glass.

The Burnish was in front of him before he could fully comprehend what was happening.

Its visor, a glossy white that created the impression of perfectly-fitted sharp teeth, glinted as it turned to look at him. Well, look _down_ at him. The thing (it? He? They??) was easily twice his height.

The combination of fear and unabashed curiosity swirling around within Galo made the Burnish look positively sublime. He didn’t even feel the sting of ice on his palms as he fell down, never taking his eyes off of the creature.

\---

All Lio wanted was a little peace and quiet for a few minutes. How could that be too much to ask?

Burnish refugees were streaming in and out of the settlement now more than ever, and the pressure to lead, support, and provide became all but suffocating. Guiera and Meis had nothing but good things to say about his work, and he hardly heard any complaints from the others…

But still.

Today was a prime example. He had made a simple _suggestion_ to get himself caught so that he could break out more Burnish from Freeze Force HQ, and to say he had been met with strong opposition would have been considered an understatement. And it wasn’t even his generals disagreeing with him that had him so pissed. He knew that eventually, they’d see his line of thinking, and in some form or other, they’d go along with his plan. But that came with a heavy price tag: time. He didn’t have time. The Burnish didn’t have time. There were innocent people being locked up and dying for the mere crime of _existing_ , and every day that he spent deliberating and negotiating within his own settlement, twiddling his damn thumbs, the more people were dying.

He had a plan. He had people. Hell, depending on who you asked, he had power, and charisma, and the energy to get things done. So why was he such a wreck tonight?

There was something curling deep within, telling him that something was missing.

Encasing himself in Detroit became a welcome distraction from the battling sensations in his gut and mind.

He considered flying laps around Mount Fennel to burn away this excess tension, but something about the shadows of the pines and the chilly mountain air here called to him more than ash and sand, and before he fully understood what he was doing, he was floating above this lake, stargazing, and trying to remember the last time he had done something so mundane. He was careful not to melt the ice beneath him, partially out of a habit of covering his tracks, partially out of a personal wish to leave this place as untouched as possible. His own reflection on the thick ice of the lake created a lovely pink ambience, and he chuckled when he tried to prescribe the words _la vie en rose_ to the situation.

And then it all had to be shattered by an idiot taking a midnight ride.

Lio took the back foot and was pleased to see the intruder fall over when he broke into his personal space. It was a bit embarrassing that someone could ride up on a motorcycle and still startle him like that. But he had the advantage of anonymity on his side. Plus, in his armor, he was bigger. Faster. Stronger. Hell, he could _fly_.

“You’re Burnish!”

“And you’re not.”

The man made an unhappy noise, and stood up while brushing his palms on his jeans.

“What the hell is a Burnish fighter doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I could ask you the very same thing.”

“I’m serious! This isn’t safe! You could set off a flare and burn this whole forest down.”

“Thank you for the public service announcement. I’ll be sure to remember it when I lose control of my unholy powers.” Sarcasm dripped from Lio’s mouth, and he felt certain the intruder could hear it.

He pointed a rude finger. “I don’t like your tone.”

_And I don’t like your face._

No, that was a blatant lie. This guy had a nice face. Strong jaw, burning eyes, an expressive mouth…

It was a real shame he wasn’t Burnish.

Lio had a whole approach that could have gone so well if they only worked on a similar frequency. But they weren’t. And they never would. And the idiot was now monologuing about something.

“What?” He kept his tone vague to hide the fact that he hadn’t been listening.

“What the hell are Burnish doing out here, anyways?”

“None of your business, city boy. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“None of _your_ business.” He bit back. He fumbled while taking a step back, and Lio knew he would either fight or fly at this point.

“This is turning out to be a very productive conversation.”

“Turn yourself in, or I’ll do it for you.”

“You really think it’s that easy.” He made it a statement, not a question. He took a couple steps, prowling around the stranger, who was getting more anxious.

“I won’t let you burn down my city!”

He snapped a pistol out from under his jacket, but it was not any kind that Lio was familiar with beyond the bright blue icons and oversized magazine. All he really needed to know was that it didn’t hold regular ammo, and it was one of the few weapons that could be even vaguely dangerous to the Burnish.

That was not the sort of tool an average citizen carried around while taking a midnight drive.

He was Freeze Force. It had to be the only explanation.

Lio whirled around, using the momentum of his leg to knock the pistol out of his hand, and throw him to the ground in the process.

The man cried out, and Lio noticed a large patch of skin on his left arm was exposed and bleeding. It was the man’s bad luck that he had approached Lio on one of the rougher patches of ice, where foam froze into rough barbs, and cut into human skin easily. The fact that he had scars very similar to Burnish flames wasn’t lost on him either.

Not that he felt bad. Each of those Freeze Force bastards deserved to go by way of ice anyways. Live by the sword and die by the sword, and all that.

But the man got back up anyways.

He threw himself at Lio, which was impressive on its own, since he couldn’t be any taller than Detroit’s hips, but had still somehow managed to catch one of his shoulders. He scrambled for Lio’s neck, or anything that his fingers could fully grip, but Lio felt no concern; his armor had been built so that there were no openings. No flaws, no dents. His only job would be to wait for the man to tire.

It only took one hand to lift the man off of him, pin him to the ground, and wrap Detroit’s claws around his considerable neck.

He wheezed and gasped, trying to kick up his legs and dig his nails into his arms. The kicks barely registered as light thumps against Detroit’s ribs, and he squeezed.

The idiot didn’t stop fighting, even when the color of his face began to change, and his muscles began to twitch. Lio had to admit he had spirit.

And then something strange happened.

As Lio looked over his victim, he saw some sort of… light, or something change in his eyes. Maybe it was the moonlight playing tricks. Maybe it was light from Lio’s own fire making strange reflections. Maybe it was the plain and simple drive to survive.

This man shouldn’t die here. Not like this.

Sure, Lio had injured people. He’d caused irreparable damage to bodies and property. And he always gave as good as he got in a fight.

But killing was… he couldn’t do it.

He wasn’t about to start with this man.

He let go and took an inelegant step back, curling his claws into fists and scowling behind Detroit’s mask. The man rolled onto his side, coughing loudly and holding his throat.

There was a long quiet, broken only by the man’s coughs and harsh breathing, before he turned to Lio, his brow scrunched in confusion.

“You let me go.”

“Yes.” He said after a long silence.

“Why?”

He stayed quiet a few moments longer, looking out on the lake. He didn’t particularly feel like explaining his moral compass, but he had a suspicion that it wouldn’t rest if he ignored it.

“I don’t know. I guess you didn’t deserve to die.”

“Nobody _deserves_ to die, Burnish.”

“No…” Lio turned, pushing him over, and leaned over him. “But some people make the prospect more tempting.” He traced a finger over the thin skin of his adam’s apple.

The man gulped audibly.

A ripple of pride passed through Lio. _Well._ That was new.

He pushed it. The man was completely on his back, trying to crawl away, and their chests ground together from the motion. He dragged his finger down from the neck to his collarbone and over his ribs and belly.

The stranger didn’t pull away from the touch. In fact, Lio could have sworn he saw his hips rise and shift as a result of his wandering hand. There was definitely a snarl. Maybe a curse word. He could feel a grin cutting into his cheeks.

“This almost beats setting something on fire.”

His eyes widened, and he hissed, “Don’t you _dare_. Nobody commits arson on my watch.”

Lio choked on a laugh.

“Relax. Take a joke. The Burnish have a sense of humor, you know.”

“It isn’t funny.” He shoved, but it wasn’t very hard, and all that it resulted in was Lio straddling closer, and giving a little shove of his own. With his hips.

“I think it’s funny. You’re funny. In a really, _really_ annoying way.” He rolled his hips again, and the man jolted. But he didn’t fight.

Unless you counted bucking his hips up and moaning as fighting.

And then Lio got an idea.

“I can promise not to cause any trouble in Promepolis. For now. But I have one condition…”

He was still leaning over the man, and he decided to see how far this little flirtation could go.

“Make it worth my while.”

\---

Galo was a nervous wreck. His body was inexplicably rising to every taunt sent by the Burnish. But not in the way he wanted. When he could have swung fists, he simply clenched them at his side. When there was an opening for a kick, he missed, and found his thigh rubbing in a way that felt all too nice.

And he was on his fucking back. Figuratively and literally.

So when “Make it worth my while” was hissed against the joining of his ear and jaw, it took every ounce of willpower not to melt into the order and simply get on his hands and knees. What could he say? He liked those bossy types.

But he was willing to test his powers of persuasion.

“You won’t-“ he hissed when a finger traced the same path from his neck, down to hook into one of his belt loops.

“I won’t set fire to your precious city tonight, so you don’t have to keep bringing that up.”

“And not the lake.”

The Burnish held up his hands. “So where the hell do you expect us to burn?”

His firm gaze faltered. “I… I don’t know.”

The Burnish stared, an eyeless gaze that made Galo feel more naked than clothed.

“You seem to have an awful lot of opinions on the Burnish for someone who knows so little about them.”

“That’s not true! I know that your fire can melt steel and concrete in minutes. You can move it at will. A single flare has just as much force as a rocket at lift-off-“

“So you know how fire works. Big deal.” His feet clicked against the ice as he stood up. “But what do you know about us as people?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We have thoughts and needs just like anyone else. We have friends, family. We need to feel safe. Defend ourselves. We need to burn, but it’s just like any other task.” He pulled Galo up by the front of his shirt. “Sleeping.” His heart pulsed. “Eating.” He brought them closer. “Shitting.” Galo gulped.

“Fucking.”

A strangled sound escaped him. One of the large hands ran over his chest, down his belly, and firmly cupped his groin.

“Burning isn’t everything. It’s important, but if the prospect of sex comes at the right time, it can actually be… very beneficial. It’s your choice. Burnish fires or Burnish fucking.”

Blood roared through Galo’s ears, skipped his brain entirely, and rushed down to his groin.

He hadn’t had sex in months, but here? With a Burnish?

He wasn’t _that_ desperate.

But those were the conditions.

And if it meant stopping at least one fire, protecting at least one house… well, he could imagine far worse situations than this for negotiating the safety of his city.

Better to set himself on fire than the whole of Promepolis, right?

“Fine.”

Still mere inches from the Burnish’s maw, Galo reached up, and tugged him down by a shoulder so that he was kneeling, and they were practically face to face. An angry hiss escaped from the helmet. Galo was pushing his luck.

The two of them tottered over, and it was satisfying for Galo to find himself in the Burnish’s lap; a thigh pressed between his own, a natural place for him to slide, and bite at the armored chin. He was testing boundaries with wicked sharp edges.

The Burnish hissed again, and grabbed him at his nape.

“Let me make something clear. I’m in charge of this. If you want this to feel good… No. If you want me to stay away from Promepolis, you _will_ submit to me.”

Galo’s breath caught in his throat.

Could he do that?

No, that wasn’t really a fair question anymore.

Was there anything he _wasn’t_ willing to do now?

The jacket slid off with a nylon hiss.

Would he let one Burnish take his beloved city from him?

He tugged his shirt over his head.

Could any cheap Burnish flare burn brighter than the one in his heart?

He unbuttoned his jeans.

His breath caught in his throat as ice nipped at his feet, where shoes and socks had been discarded.

“You’re taking too long.”

And a pair of wicked claw hands dipped into the waistband of his jeans, and tugged down.

\---

Lio’s armored hands yanked at the jeans without ripping the fabric or cutting flesh. He could have simply willed the inhuman claws away, or worse, kept them but broken skin, but that would have taken him down a notch. He didn’t want this stranger to think he was getting any special favors. He was giving himself to Lio, not the other way around.

The annoying little human hissed, shivered, and opened his legs slightly when the pants were gone.

“I guess you should know my name…” he laughed nervously. An armored hand cupped his chin, and a thumb roughly dragged over his lips.

“I don’t want to know your name. And you won’t get mine. It’s less complicated that way.”

“Romantic, aren’t you?”

“ _Romance_ is a luxury. This is just survival.” He said the word as if it were an insult, and a clawed hand slid down to clutch at his ass. “I can still set something on fire if this isn’t your speed.”

“No! Th-this is fine!”

The pouting was kind of cute. He was obviously a tough guy; you couldn’t get muscles like that from sitting around or eating poorly. Knowing he was vulnerable and… out of his element, filled Lio with a strange sort of satisfaction.

“You really would do anything to protect your people…”

“Y-yes.”

Something hot and syrup-sweet melted within Lio’s gut. He knew all about that, whether it be protecting those he cared about or complete strangers. He had to. Saving the Burnish was a matter of life and death. If this idiot could articulate and live by something so familiar, even if it was for the wrong reasons… then maybe…

Well, it didn’t matter.

This was a quick fuck. Not a first date.

He found himself shoving the man back again. He landed on his rump with an undignified yelp, with nothing but his boxers between him and the ice. Lio wasn’t sure why he liked seeing him like this, splayed out and open.

Lio knelt, and crawled over him like a panther on a bough, savoring every twitch and sharp intake of breath. The Freeze Force bastard was squirming under his attention.

Without thinking, his hands wrapped around his thighs, and notched them up against Detroit’s hips. He ignored noises of complaint as the man’s shoulders slid against ice, and instead wrapped himself in the sensation of tight tendons and soft, fleshy skin giving in to his presses. Knowing he could feel everything, even with Detroit between his own aching cock and the stranger beneath him, simultaneously relaxed him and wound him up.

Damn but he would have loved to sink his actual teeth into this man.

On his back, with his arms splayed above his disheveled head, he was looking at their hips as they ground together. His eyes were hazy with lust, his lower lip was firmly tucked between his teeth, and his breath was quick and puffy with steam as his chest rippled and shook.

After a few minutes of such a simple, primal motion, though, even Lio’s thighs began to shake, and he had to lean back and assess the best way to finger and eventually fuck his partner. It really was a shame that they only had time to do this once, and without a proper bed.

The underwear needed to come off. And he frankly didn’t have the patience to wait for them to be politely peeled off. So he put Detroit’s claws to good use.

The boxers curled away, torn and useless as petals wilting from a dying flower.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“Be glad I didn’t do it to your jeans. Or your balls.”

The threat hung empty in the air. Now, Lio was too busy looking at his prize, and in turn, his partner was achingly aware of the fact. To his credit, he didn’t hide himself from Lio’s gaze.

“I’m really starting to hate you.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure…” he purred, and began sliding his hands along Galo’s spread thighs.

“Wait.” He jerked against the touch. “There isn’t any-“

“We don’t need it. Just relax, open up, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But-“

“Consider this a lesson in Burnish biology-“

“What?”

Lio made a definitive “ugh” sound, and ran a hand over the bumps and dips from shoulder to jaw. “I don’t need store-bought lube to fuck you. I can create it myself. Is that clear enough?”

“Oh… Oh!” He could practically hear the gears click into place, and he wove fingers into his hair before more questions could be asked.

“And stop shrinking away. It’s not like I’m going to do anything weird to you.”

Lio took a moment to slide his free hand down to his groin, where he could call forth his own erection. Well, it wouldn’t be his _own_ dick coming out, that was too much vulnerability for him, but he could reform his flames, and Detroit would be just as effective as he would be in his own naked skin. It took a few seconds to let his mind relax, and for the plates to loosen enough and remold into a more productive shape. It was all his own, with next to no exaggerations beyond a set of thin ribs. He didn’t want to kill the guy, after all.

When he looked up, his partner was all wide eyes and a slack mouth.

“I… uh, I know you said no weird stuff, but… that’s pretty damn weird.”

Lio’s tone went sardonic, and he curled his fingers over himself. “That’s not what your dick is saying.”

His partner cursed, and made a weak attempt to hide his leaking erection.

It was then that Lio decided he wanted to see this damn idiot’s face when he came, and he pulled the man fully into his lap so that he could get to work.

For the shortest instance, there was a flinch as his nails slid over the tenderest flesh of inner thigh and perineum. But as Lio’s hands worked their way down to his hole, he could feel his partner sinking into the touches and actually beginning to _enjoy_ it.

His fingers worked quickly, but every second of teasing and testing felt like an eternity. He couldn’t rush this part, but damn if he didn’t want to.

He pressed once, tracing a firm line around the rim of muscles.

“Mmmm-fff!” A curse was bit back, and instead of pressing into Lio’s shoulder, the man leaned back, all the way, so that his head and shoulders fell back against the ice.

He bit his lip, and Lio would have been willing to bet that the most delicious little whimper was hiding behind it.

“That’s it.” He coaxed.

His back arched, and Lio was suddenly very, _very_ aware of how elegant a waist could look at this angle. His ribs flared, and every heave of his chest gave a delectable view of his nipples rising and falling. Even with hands tightly gripping to keep him from sliding, he looked so damn precarious.

One of Lio’s hands tightened around his waist, while the other slid around to rest palm-down on his solar plexus.

“I’m going to ruin you.” Lio groaned.

“Just try.” He bit back.

One of Detroit’s vicious claws was willed into a blunt end, but Lio didn’t let him see that, and he pushed in once, very slowly, but very firmly. Call it punishment for his sass.

His back arched completely off the ice, and he made the most delicious choked sound as Lio pulled out, slow as he could bear. Pre-cum dripped onto the man’s stomach. When he pushed in again, he cried out, arched, and shuddered. Lio continued to press, pull, and knead at him like dough, shaping and molding him so that he rose to every touch. He was fairly certain he was melting them into the ice, but with no telltale cracklings or booms to signal the surface breaking, he continued to break the man beneath him.

When one finger became two, Lio had no idea, but a “Fuck, I’m close!” jolted him back to reality like a bucket of ice water.

He didn’t want the fun to end just as he was getting worked up.

Lio withdrew his hands, and it took a few seconds of heavy breathing before Galo raised his head to fix him with an unhappy look.There was no mistaking the lust and rage that was brewing in the man’s eyes. He must not have been ready for Lio to pull away.

“Whuh, why did you stop?” His voice rumbled, and Lio felt hot all over.

“Because we’re doing _this_.”

He took his member in hand, pressed against Galo’s entrance, and he held tight to his legs so that he wouldn’t kick away or change their positions. Sliding in was such delicious agony; Lio could feel his flames stuttering, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the glide of his dick. Not too fast, don’t bend too far, keep it together… that’s it…

When he felt himself fully hilted, he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

His partner must have been holding his breath too, there was a loud sound of air being sucked in, and a tightening that wasn’t unlike nocking a bow into an arrow. Lio slid out, testing the connection, and marveled that he was so damn tight and wet and hot and why did he even think he’d need to use Burnish heat and slick to prepare him?

He was perfect.

Lio shoved again, then again, pushing until there was absolutely no mistaking that they were fucking. He went at it, stroking and rolling, over and over, until his partner’s gasps turned into cries, and Lio had to bite back his own in response.

The shape of his mouth, which had been all sharp lines for scowling and lip-biting earlier, was softened into a soft, moan-filled smile.

That alone made him almost cum right then.

It really was such a shame.

He shifted, making sure his legs were tucked under them. Foot arches attempted to curl over the ridge of his hips, and as Lio rocked back, they slipped, and his partner moaned. Despite everything in his body signaling that he was open, relaxed, perfectly primed for fucking, he could have sworn that his hole was getting tighter and tighter. He was so close, so ready.

It was hot as hell.

Lio couldn’t think about anything else. His ass. His mouth. The shadow made by the swell of his chest on his throat. The glassy black of Detroit against his bare skin. Another moan.

The only intelligent thought Lio had then was that the color of his cock nearly matched the color inside of his mouth, which was open and slick with spit.

\---

He couldn’t remember how to breathe. He couldn’t remember how to talk, to fight, to yell, to beg.

He held onto the armor, hot like leather sitting too long in the sun. What was a scalding heat at first melted into something softer; and before he knew it, his hands were clutching and clawing at the Burnish’s forearms.

His hips pistoned in again, out slow, and then hard back in, finding a rhythm that Galo could almost keep up with.

It was rough, and it was unforgiving, but he couldn’t claim it was cruel. Thrusts turned into strafes, and any hope of being quiet was lost when one of his legs was lifted, and slung into the crook of the Burnish’s elbow, making his attack deeper and harder.

More heat pierced through him, and he felt himself shatter. If he yelled “Fuck!” or “There!” or simply sobbed, he had no idea. What had been a sky of a billion stars before now became two billion, and he was being catapulted into them with no sign of rescue or return.

Crying out, Galo tightened his grip, and found silky fine hair in between his fingers.

The Burnish was relentless. He fucked harder and faster, and Galo went mad with the sensation of something too hot pressing against the darkest, tightest, most vulnerable part of himself. He had never felt such a terrible ecstasy before.

It must be what dying felt like.

He must be on fire right now, burning to death.

He climbed higher and faster and sweeter and hotter, straight to heaven, until all of it spurted out, hot as blood and bright as dawn against his belly.

Galo keened and clenched his eyes shut.

The Burnish continued, riding the wave of Galo’s climax. Sweat and ice water flew up in messy splashes, and rose as steam against inhuman skin. All Galo could do in response was rock into his thrusts. His head tipped back with a deliciously discordant moan, and within a couple well-placed thrusts, a different kind of liquid heat filled him.

He wasn’t sure what he expected Burnish sex would end with. Molten lava cum? His genitals burning off? Certainly not this.

He had been promised ruination. He wanted more.

Gasping, Galo opened his eyes. He saw a flicker of pale hair and big, glittering eyes… but then the huge, glossy teeth of the helmet closed over its owner’s face before his sex-addled brain could make sense of anything else.

“Wait-“ he croaked.

The Burnish pulled out a little too quickly, and an obscene sound escaped Galo. He distantly felt cum begin to cool as it dripped down his buttocks, and his back bowed at imagining seeing it for himself. Hands gripped his waist, and slid him back down to where his jacket, now very rumpled and somehow covered in cum, sat between them and the ice. Galo lay there, silently mapping out the parts of him that were cold from the ice, hot from the Burnish, and numb from something not of this dimension while he waited to regain some motor control.

The Burnish, still on his knees, straightened his back and appeared to be catching his breath. Or meditating. Or questioning his sanity. When Galo managed to sit up, and reached a hand out in a futile attempt to see his face again, it was swatted away.

“You should go home.” The voice was low and chilled, and Galo could have sworn he saw the Burnish’s shoulders shudder. Awareness slowly cleared his brain, and he reached for his pants, blessedly still wearable after the encounter, and tugged them back on, before the ice could do more damage to his rump. The underwear was unsalvageable, but he could deal. His vision swam as he tried to find his shirt. If he couldn’t, that’d mean wearing the dirty jacket, and he’d have to go straight home to wash it… and…

It was an awkward silence, only cut by the rustle of denim and heavy breathing. He knew there would be angry welts all along his back come morning.

After Galo waited a very patient full minute, he said, “You owe me some boxers.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Except your promise.” Galo stood, and grimaced at the state of his jacket. He’d have to keep his back to a wall if he ran into anyone at his apartment. Jizz stains were not really in style this season.

“You’re really caught up on this whole ‘protect the city’ thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s my job.”

He could practically hear the Burnish’s eyes narrowing to slivers. Not that that was possible, but it was obvious.

“How do I know you won’t go back on your promise?”

There was a scoff, and the waving of a hand. “You might not believe this, but we Burnish get tired after fucking the same way you do. And I’m a man of my word.”

“Well, pardon me for never having met a Burnish who kept a promise. Some of you have a reputation for lying and stealing.”

That gave the Burnish pause. And one of his hands clenched.

“I don’t think anyone would believe either of us anyways. Who’d buy it if you told them you drove up to the mountains and got fucked by a Mad Burnish terrorist?”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Don’t take it personal. If you’d’ve lost, you’d be dead.”

“I don’t lose, Burnish!”

“Neither do I.”

The silence stretched between them. Galo snarled, and rubbed his hands to keep the cold from setting in. He wasn’t sure if it was his anger, horniness, frustration, or wariness that was doing this. He couldn’t quite label this feeling, but it made his skin crawl.

“Let’s just hope we don’t meet again. Because if we do, I’ll turn you in myself.”

“Agreed.”

And just like that, the divide between them loomed as large as ever.

Galo backed away. The call of reality brought him closer and closer to the spot where his pistol lay, and by the time he was close enough to crouch down and take it back, the Burnish had leapt up into the sky, and was flying away.

Against the glitter of the Milky Way, the flames were only a tiny, but brilliant, pinprick of color.

“Wow.” Galo sighed, and watched the thin, pink trail of fire disappear into the dark.

When he turned to head towards the shore, he wailed.

As a result of their rolling around, the ice had melted into a strange sort of bowl, one that he’d have to climb out of without the convenient power of Burnish flames. The hole was easily five meters deep.


End file.
